


Fight Me, Doctor

by lemon_powered



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Doctor AU, Doctor Stiles Stilinski, MMA Fighter Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_powered/pseuds/lemon_powered
Summary: Stiles is a ER doctor, and Derek is prone to injury, but that's not how they meet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my FIRST published fic! Please enjoy. 
> 
> My writing style is a little choppy, so if you have any questions feel free to ask!
> 
> I have no idea the motivation behind this story.
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> A. Sheep

It was rather funny to watch. The guy couldn't have been much older than him. He had vomited, before sliding down the exterior brick wall, his glasses being lost to the mess. Erica had pointed him out, saying he looked kind of out of it. 

“We should help.” She had said. Derek had to agree. 

He was super out of it, when Derek approached, babbling on and on inanely. Erica called them a taxi to take them back to their place. 

“Hey, man, you alright? Here give me your hand we’ll get you out of here, alright?” Derek reached out touching the wall next to the kid first before the actual person, not wanting to freak him out because of the sudden touch. 

“You~ look~ like-” he paused to take a large breath in through his mouth, and swallow his spit. “A bagel.” He finished triumphantly. 

“Sure, I do.” Derek fished out the glasses in the pile of ick by the arm of the frames, shoving them into a handkerchief that had been in his coat. “Can you stand?” The taxi rolled up to the curb, ready and waiting, Erica already giving the taxi driver their address. 

The guy shook and nodded his head, moving slightly but then seemingly feeling nauseous. “I don't think so.” He slurred leaning to one side, trying to lie down. Derek caught his shoulders, wrapped a hand under the guy’s knees, and picked him up. 

The taxi driver stated his vomit policy once they were all settled in. Lucky, he didn't vomit, but the smell was strong enough, and so was the driver’s tip. 

 

“Where the fuck did I leave my glasses?” Was the first thing their drunken man said when sober. Erica burst out laughing at the breakfast table, and Derek had admitted that he laughed too. “Wait, this isn't my apartment.”

“Go save him.” Erica said, her laughter fading to giggles. 

Derek got up from the table, leaving his plate, and headed to his room, which is where they had put the man when they got home the night prior. 

He rapped softly on the door, before going in. “Hey, man, found you sitting in your own vomit in an alley.” The man looked stunned. “My friend, Erica, and I, Derek, brought you back here. Your glasses are here, they fell into your vomit. “ Derek extended them out to him. The man vaguely looked at them. 

“Did you-”

“Oh, yeah, they’re clean.” Derek answered. 

A pregnant pause. 

“And you are?” Derek prompted. 

“Stiles Stilinski.”

“Good to know.”

Another pause. 

“Do you want to take a shower? The smell is still pretty strong.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm up for that.”

Derek got Stiles set up the bathroom, showing him what was best to use, got him a towel and washcloth, and an extra set of clothes including a pack of unopened boxer briefs. 

“That sounded awkward.” Erica commented when Derek came back to the table. 

“Tell me about it. His name is Stiles Stilinski, by the way.” Derek leaned into his chair and picked up his book again. 

“Well, since you did that, I'll clean your sheets.” Erica stated, putting his dishes in the sink before disappearing into Derek’s room. 

“Thanks, E,” he called half heartedly. 

 

The next night when Stiles had been sent home, Erica crawled into bed with Derek. She rolled into Derek’s back in her sleep, curling up behind him. She did this to anyone she shared a bed with, but it really only bothered Derek; her bony knee gently sitting in the seam of his butt cheeks. Derek huffed a sigh, getting up because of it. 

He finished off the leftover pizza in the fridge before settling down on the floor, stretching out his legs. No lights were on but he continued his stretches until he was relaxed enough to fall asleep on the sofa.

In the morning, he wasn't stirred by Erica getting ready for work, and only woke up when she closed the door to leave.

“Yo, Erica!” She looked up from her lunch.

“Hey, Stiles. What are you doing here?” Erica indicated for Stiles to sit with her. He stood up leaning against the chair but didn't sit. 

“I work just down the street.” He pointed behind him. The street ended at an entrance to a large building.

“The hospital? Are you a janitor or something?” Erica asked.

“Oh, you wound me.” Stiles stumbled back dramatically. “I'm an ER doctor.” Stiles waved goodbye, saying he was late. Erica waved too. 

Erica got home early and went to bed early. Derek had hid himself away in his room until she was soundly asleep. It was late, too late for anyone to be up. Derek paced the length of the apartment, eyes closed. He stubbed his toes repeatedly as he walked past the sofa, barely correcting his path, until he missed it completely.

 

Erica called Stiles first thing in the morning. “Does he do that often?” Stiles asked, as he wrapped Derek’s toes. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, face tucked into a corner. One toe was broken, the others badly bruised. 

Erica said nothing. She continued to pet his hair gently. 

“Coffee?” She offered.

“Another time, I need to get to work.” Stiles checked his watch, replacing the ice back on Derek’s toes. “I'll come by Friday?”

“Friday.” Erica agreed.

“Friday.” Stiles repeated then he headed off to work.

 

“Shit” Stiles muttered as he ran with the gurney to the closest open spot. Bus crash, school bus. His head was on a swivel. Scott came in behind him. Lydia was in front. Nurses scattered everywhere. It was a mess. Monitors beeping. People yelling, pushing, crying. He looked to the girl in the bed at his side. She couldn't have been more than 11. The noise faded out. He saw her, only her, and got to work.

“Hey, sweetie. My name is Stiles. Can you tell me yours?”

“I'm scared.” She cried out softly.

“I've got you, honey. Can you tell me your name?” Stiles carefully worked on finding the bleeding, doing his preliminary check. 

“Ho-lly.” She hiccuped through tears. Stiles gave her a smile.

“That's a pretty name.”

The rest of the day Stiles would rather forget.

 

It was Friday, Stiles remembered as he stood in front of Erica and Derek’s apartment door. He rang the bell once.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Stiles asked, startled by the black eye and broken nose that Derek was sporting. 

“I was mugged, or something. Whatever story you want to make up. I'm going to bed.” Derek shut the door behind him, returning Stiles to being alone in the living room. Erica came out a moment later.

“What’s up?” She asked, concerned. 

“The black eye that Derek just came in with, not to mention the horribly broken nose.” Stiles recapped. Erica muttered something under her breath. “Huh?”

“He's a clumsy idiot. Come in.” Ercia didn't seem as miffed as she did at the other injury. They had coffee and only really talked about Erica’s boyfriend, that was out of town; Vernon was his name, if Stiles remembered correctly. Stiles enjoyed his time greatly. 

 

Stiles found himself at the door of Erica and Derek’s apartment. She had called but left a very vague emergency message. The man who opened the door wasn't Derek. “Uh, hi. Is Derek here?” 

It didn't look like he was going to make it passed him, but then Erica appeared beside them. 

“Stiles, finally you're here. We need your doctor ability.” She grabbed Stiles by the arm dragging him past the hulking form of the man that opened the door. 

Stiles expected to find Derek in a state disarray, but saw that he was okay, and found another male hurt. 

It looked like glass. Digging into his cheek was the remaining pieces of a drinking glass. There were bruises elsewhere on his visible skin. He felt like he'd seen this before. 

“Grab your jackets. We're going to the ER.” Stiles said after a still moment. They stiffened. “What's your name?” 

“Isaac.” The guy made himself smaller in front of them. Stiles crouched to eye contact with Isaac.

“Isaac, we’ll get the bastard.”  

 

“Stiles! What the hell are you doing in my ER?” The sound of the heels announced her presence over the rumbling of the constant patients. 

Stiles stepped to the side, displaying Isaac’s wound. He kind of shrugged. 

“I give you a week off and you end up here everyday anyway.” She muttered to herself. She appointed Stiles a nurse, and paged Scott. “Get Scott to do it please. I can’t pay you.” 

“Yes ma’am, Miss Lydia.” Stiles saluted, and started working anyway. Lydia made her way back to her station. The nurse arrived with a smile.

“Hey, Stiles. Who do we have here?” She popped on some gloves and started assisting Stiles. 

“Hey, Kira. This here is Isaac. He’s had a rough day, and these are his siblings: Derek, Erica, and uh.”

“Boyd.” The guy that Stiles had confronted at the front door filled in for him. 

“And Boyd.” Stiles repeated. 

Stiles asked that only one of them stay back here while they worked. Derek just didn't move, and Erica and Boyd made their way to the waiting room. 

Stiles made sure Derek was in Isaac’s line of sight before starting, even having Kira hold his hand at point, needing to dig out a particularly pesky piece. 

“Well, I'm all done with that.” Stiles said, as another man entered their curtained off area. 

“I figured you would do it anyway. I'm Scott.” He introduced himself to Isaac and Derek, before telling Stiles to take off his gloves so he could do the check up. 

Isaac began to fidget, especially when Scott asked about checking his chest. Stiles asked Kira to leave with him. Stiles was talking to Erica and Boyd when Isaac and Derek came back to the waiting room. Stiles called them a cab when they stepped outside. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd climbed into backseat. Derek shook hands with Stiles. He dipped his low, and whispered a thank you into Stiles’s ear.

“What's Isaac’s last name?” Stiles asked when they were still close.

“Don't do anything stupid.”

“What is it?”

“Lahey.”

 

“I did something stupid.” Stiles said when the door swung open to Derek.

“You did it.” Boyd said.

“He’s an idiot.” Erica added.

“You’re an idiot.” Derek finally commented.

Isaac looked up from his half daze on the couch. He woke up fully when he saw the bandage and sling on Stiles. “What happened?”

“I-” Stiles scratched the back of his head, messing with a bandage that was there too. “I did something without asking, and also really stupid.” 

“I guess you also technically kept your promise.” Derek added. 

“That is true.” Stiles agreed, taking the mug he was handed, not even knowing what is was. 

Isaac sunk into his seat, remembering what Stiles had said. 

_ “We’ll get that bastard.” _

“Oh wait! I forgot something.” Stiles jumped up from the table and to the door. He leaned out of it beckoning someone in. 

Isaac had followed Stiles with his eyes when he got to the door he stood up. 

“Camden.” Isaac said shocked. 

“Isaac, I'm so sorry. I didn't know.” Isaac jumped into his Camden’s arms. 

“I don't care.” Isaac cried. Erica and Boyd were both trying to hide their tears. Stiles made his made out the door. 

“And a happy new year.” He chuckled quietly to himself. 

 

“Who are you even fighting?” Stiles asked. Derek shrugged. Stiles shrugged back. “Shrugs are not an answer, boy.” Stiles chuckled. “You can't keep doing this.” 

“I'll try better next time.” Derek assured. Stiles reset the two bent fingers. Derek winced. 

“How’s Isaac?” Stiles changed the subject. They caught up on the lives of siblings, and work, and whatever else came to mind. 

“Stiles!” It was a loud scream. It silenced half of the ER. “Get over here!” 

“Give me a moment, please.” Stiles said trying to stay somewhat calm. “What-” A nurse switched positions with him.

Stiles came back thirty minutes later, covered in blood, introducing the nurse that had covered him.

“Hey, this is Allison. She’s gonna finish patching you up.” Her hair was up in a bun, and looked concerningly at Stiles. “I'm just-” he slumped to the floor, since there was no wall for him to fall back on. “I'm just going to sit here.” He put his head between his knees, taking deep breathes. 

Derek knew trying to talk to Stiles was a bad idea right now, so he asked Allison. “What happened?” 

“His dad is a cop, and there was a shoot out. That was who came in. Stiles stopped the bleeding for now, but he’s still in a tight spot. We’ll see in the morning.” Allison wrapped the wound on his arm and hand. “Lydia told him to stop working, and go shower but he's going to stay like until his dad’s in the clear.” 

“I’ll get him cleaned up.” 

“You guys have met outside of your underground kickboxing wounds?” Allison wondered. Derek let out a breath of laughter.

“Yeah, he really helped a friend of mine get back on his feet.” Derek hissed as Allison reset a tight nerve. “and I don’t kickbox.” 

“Sure, you don’t Mr. Hale, it’s not like I, an Argent, who doesn't know anything about it,  hasn’t seen you in the ring.” Allison’s dad was a manager for a few fighters.

“I’m sorry that someone looks like me, but I’m really just that clumsy.” Derek said. He signed off on his paperwork, hopping off the bed. Allison nodded sarcastically.

“Sure. I’ll show you the locker room, to get him cleaned up.”

“Stiles?” Derek grabbed Stiles’s bicep, pulling him off the floor. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Allison lead them out of the ER to another part of the hospital, using her key card to get her into a room. “You guys can use the on call room. Down the hall.” 

“Thanks.” 

Allison waved as she left. 

“Stiles.” Derek held Stiles up by his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “You need to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Stiles supported himself, stretching a bit. Stiles put himself in the bathroom. It only a few minutes later that Stiles came out wrapped in a towel. Stiles went and found his locker with a pile of civvies that he had left in there, even finding a few clean pairs of underwear in it. Unfortunately no socks though, but at this point he didn’t care. He came back and changed. 

“I need to eat, but I really don't feel like it.” Stiles said, after slipping on his shoes. Derek was laying on the bed in the single room, close to dozing off. 

“Huh?” Derek opened an eye and looked at Stiles. 

“I forgot about the fact that you just got out of a fight with Batman.” Stiles chuckled. He took a seat on the bed, slowing laying down next to Derek. 

 

Allison came and found them when she had her break. Stiles was still mostly asleep. 

“So are you going to start winning fights soon or do I need to start supporting my father?” Allison had brought her lunch with her.

“You think I lose on purpose.” Derek laughed.

“Yeah, I do. Especially after what happened to Laura and Kate, and everyone else we care about.” Allison said, pointing her fork at Derek. “You think- No, you believe that you're responsible for all that happen and that's a lie. Start winning or I'm gonna tell my dad to drop you.” 

“Like he would do that, I pretty sure I’m written in his will.” Derek countered. Allison raised her brow. “Okay. I'll try and forgive myself.” 

“You’ll just have to find a new way to flirt with Stiles then.”

“My beat up appearance doesn't make him swoon everytime he sees me?” Derek smirked. 

Allison laughed at him. “Sure, it does.” 

“Stiles, I’m fine.” His dad consoled. “I'll be back on my feet in no time.”

“Yeah, well, until then I'm going on leave. I'm going to take care of you.” Stiles insisted; he meticulously read his father’s chart. Scott rolled in on a little stool, doing his rounds.

“Stiles, stop being a doctor and be a son for once.” Scott pulled the chart out of Stiles’s hand and sat him down. 

“I qualify to be both at the same time.”

“This is why you only have a few friends.” Scott joked. Stiles feigned hurt.

“You wound me.” John and Scott both rolled their eyes.

 

The commentators rambled to each other before the match started. “And here we have Derek Hale, who is on a constant losing streak since last year. This is currently Chris Argent’s only fighter these past two seasons.”

“He really needs to pick it up, or Chris is going to be out of a job very soon.”

“And I would hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go. His fighter isn't the only one in good shape.” 

“Cool you jets, Peter.”

John Stilinski had the TV on low volume, while he and Stiles relaxed in the living room. Stiles was asleep spread out on the sofa, it was getting pretty late. 

“And here he comes, Derek Hale, who just broke two of fingers last fight. I wonder how he’ll do.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

John flipped off the TV to finally fall asleep in his recliner.

 

“What?” Chris Argent asked angry and confused. Allison next to him in civvies, Derek in a hospital bed nursing a serious headache. “A concussion?” 

“The impact of the punch and the fall has done a lot. Derek really needs to avoid any complex thoughts or stimulus for at least a month.” Deaton explained, the on call neurosurgeon. “I strongly suggest he stays here for the first week.” 

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Derek who’s eyes were closed tight, his face contorted in pain. “We’ll stay.” He said finally. “What can we do?” Deaton sat Chris down and began to explain.

 

“I haven't seen Derek in a while.” Stiles thought out loud. Allison was next to him at the nurse’s station. Scott passed by, as Lydia strolled up. 

“He got a concussion. He’s on floor 7.” Lydia filled in. “He came in last night.” 

Stiles wasn't actually back from leave yet, just came to do his laundry that he had left in his locker, looking for one of his favorite t-shirts in the mess. 

“What room? I’ll go say hi.” 

Lydia gave him the room number and a file to drop off in records on his way up. Stiles made his way up, stopping by records, saying hello to Danny, before heading up to Derek. 

Jackson, Stiles least favorite person, and current favorite asshole, was sitting at the floor’s nurse’s station. 

“Oh, it's you.” Jackson deadpanned.

“Yes, I still exists much to your dismay.” Stiles waved as he passed. Jackson smirked. 

He found room 711, and knocked gently before going in. Derek lay, seemingly asleep in the bed, another man in the room, sitting on the sofa near the curtained window, barely any light in the room. 

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go.” Stiles turning to leave.

“Who are you?” Was all the man said. “Are you a doctor? Friend of his?” 

“Uh. Both actually. But right now I'm just a friend. I'm on leave.” Stiles explained walking more into the room, looking at all the monitors.

“Why are you on leave? You kill someone?” The man was half encased in shadows from the darkness of the room. The small amount of light coming from the cracked bathroom door.

Stiles choked down something that rose in his throat. “Not recently. No, my father was shot. I took off to take care of him.”

“Chris Argent.” The man said. “Derek’s brother-in-law.” 

Stiles could only think about the fact that Allison and Derek were related, and not at all about the fact that Derek was married. 

“You’re Allison’s dad, aren't you? I'm Stiles Stilinski. I work with her in the ER.” 

Chris stood and they shook hands. “It's nice to meet, Stiles. I’ve heard quite a bit about you, from the both of them.” 

 

“Derek’s your uncle. How did I not know this!” Stiles called Allison once she had gotten off of work. 

“Technically, he's divorced.” She said. He heard the faint clink of dishes and Scott in the background of the call. “So I don't know if really counts anymore. He’s more like a cousin.”

“Your dad introduced himself as his brother-in-law and left it at that.”

“Derek has an uncle that doesn't do anything, so my dad is Derek’s medical proxy. The same with you and Scott, if either of your parents passed away. Brother-in-law sounds more official than ex brother-in-law because of a tragic family incident that convicts your now ex-wife for manslaughter.”

“Yeah, that does sound better, and simpler.” Stiles nodded to himself. 

“And it's easier because my dad’s his coach and manager.” Allison added.

“For what?” Stiles was confused. He looked over to his dad getting up from his recliner. 

“Kickboxing. Derek is a lightweight kickboxer. My dad is or was one of the top tiered coaches in the league until Derek started losing fights. I'm sure that how you met him, through the ER.” 

“Uh, no, actually. He and Erica helped me out when I got wasted. That's how we met.” Stiles said sheepishly. “I'm pretty sure someone slipped something in my drink.”

“Oh, well, yeah, he's family.” Allison said something to Scott that was about father's or something before tuning back into Stiles. “He gets out in five days. My dad is going to make him stay with him until he’s better.”

“I know Isaac is going stir crazy, so could you swing by and take him out to lunch or something. Boyd's been working non-stop.”

“What about Camden? He’s back, isn't he?” Stiles shifted in his seat as the front door opened and his dad brought in the pizza they had ordered. 

“How do you know about Camden?” Allison sounded very concerned. 

“I’m the one that got him to come home. I broke my arm because of it.” Stiles told her, gladly taking a slice from the pizza box on the table. “Is the scar healing okay?”

“You’re the one that got Isaac’s dad arrested!” 

“Yeah, Scott knew about it. Or at least about me fixing up Isaac’s face. Like who even leaves a perfect circle of the glass bottom. His dad was begging to caught.” 

“How did you even do it? We’ve been trying all year.” 

“I asked him why, and he broke my arm, threatened my livelihood, I had evidence from Isaac's most recent wound, and a wonderful dad who is also a cop. I kind of cheated.” Stiles confessed. “Broken limbs suck, by the way. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” The words were cover in the sound of chewing. 

“I need to buy you a beer.” Allison said afterwards.

 

Stiles knocked on the door of what he learned was Boyd and Erica’s apartment, which now housed little Isaac, and his minimal amount of belongings. Erica waved hi and bye as she left for work. Boyd had been gone all night and would be home soon to sleep. Isaac looked better. The gauzes over his face were now gone, and there was only a faint mark of a circle on his cheek. The color was warm in his skin, no bruising in sight.

Stiles did take him to lunch, like Allison had suggested, but also took him to see Derek, who was more responsive by day seven. They were going to follow Chris back to his house to hang out. 

“Hey, bud.” Derek let out sluggishly, still half asleep, but then again that's really all you do when you have a concussion, sleep that is. “How’s it going?” He seemed to mimicked a sloth. Stiles stumbled a laugh, while Isaac fussed, worried that it was a bad sign. Stiles calmed him. 

“He’s fine, Isaac. The sleep is good for him.” 

Chris joined them a little after they arrived. He shook Isaac and Stiles hand, before giving Derek a solid pat on the shoulder. 

 

Isaac and Derek were both fast asleep on the two sofas in Chris’s living room. Stiles was in the kitchen with Chris, talking about Derek. 

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Chris asked honestly. 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, he just needs to rest. Nothing horribly wrong has happened.”

 

“Hey, hey, Stiles. Come here. Breath with me.” Lydia and Scott were both helping. Scott making sure he had space. Lydia getting his attention. “Count with me, 10, 9, 6, 8, 3, 7.”

“10, 9, 6-” He looked passed Lydia to the women he thought he knew. “8, 3, 7” His breathing slowed to normal. Lydia helped him up.

 

Derek had actually won a fight. A legit kickboxing match was won by the one and only Derek Hale. Drinks were to be had. Allison gathered everyone not on shift to the bar they attended regularly. 

“To this idiot, who finally learned how to land a punch!” She cheered. Everyone raised their glasses together, beer sloshing a little into someone else’s glass, but it didn't matter. It was all fun. Scott was keeping Isaac company, sober because he worked in an hour on the night shift. Isaac appreciated it very greatly. Everyone knew why. Erica gave Derek a stiff punch to the shoulder.

“I thought I was going to have to give you lessons on how to fight.” She joked. Derek rolled his eye, but was smiling with her. 

“That would have been a trip.” Boyd said, and Stiles agreed. 

“You should teach me how to fight.” Stiles suggested with drunken grin. Erica was quickly studying the drinking habits and abilities of one Stiles Stilinski. 

She knew her friends habits about alcohol. She is a bartender; it's kind of her job. Derek and Isaac didn't drink, both for reasons known to most people. Isaac’s dad was a drunk, and Derek never wants to lose control. Boyd sticks to beer and maybe a rum and coke if he’s feeling special. Erica was fine with anything that had a kick. Allison could drink anyone under the table. Lydia stuck to one fruity drink the whole night. Scott again was not drinking due to work, but he seems like a beer guy, same as Boyd. Stiles on the other hand drank whatever was put in front of him. She could understand know why they found indisposed, that first night. 

Derek grabbed the drink the bartender put in front of Stiles and handed to Allison. “Cool it, Stiles, or you're going to get sick.” He had on a sloppy grin, telling him that he was pretty wasted already. It quickly turned to a frown with he noticed the drink was gone. 

“You're no fun.” He pouted. “Loosen up.” Derek pulled him under his arm. Stiles fit perfectly under Derek’s arm, sides pressed together. Stiles's sloppy grin returned. Derek ignored the warmth by his side, and answered a question that he doesn't even know who asked. 

 

“Yeah, I got him.” Derek said. Stiles was sat in the corner dozing off. Allison also needed a ride, still aware and awake, but still having drunk way too much. Erica and Boyd could walk home. Isaac was ready for bed as well, making his way to the door. Scott waved goodbye. Lydia walked out with him to her ride. 

“All aboard the drunk bus.” Isaac muttered to himself as Allison and Stiles were hauled to the car. Derek had let Stiles climb onto his back, hearing soft snores. Allison stumbled around a little but was able to remember what Derek's car looked like, and get in the back seat. 

Isaac sighed helping Stiles get buckled in after Derek dumped in the back seat. 

“Thank you, buddy. You’re-” Stiles hiccuped. “A good pupper.” Isaac cracked a tiny smile. 

“You're not bad yourself.” Isaac replied, pushing Stiles back into the car, before closing the door. 

The ride back was quiet everyone practically asleep.

 

Getting them in the house was easy. Allison collapsed on the first soft surface which was the sofa. Isaac went up to his room, and Derek headed for his bedroom, Stiles stumbling around, but still following. Derek heard the thud of Stiles in his bed, while he changed into pjs. Once changed, Derek pulled off Stiles's shoes and belt. As per usual, Stiles had quite a few layers on, which Derek stripped off as well. 

Stiles muttered in his sleep, snuggling into the middle of the bed. Derek scooted him over a bit before crawling in. Stiles curled up into Derek’s back, his knees pressing into Derek’s back. It didn't bother Derek this time, and he didn't know why. 

 

Stiles threw up once in the morning, before listening to his voicemail and going stunningly quiet. He paced around the apartment a bit. 

“Stiles, what's up?” Isaac asked, over his bowl of cereal. 

“Um. It's something that I got in trouble for. Yeah. Real trouble. It's nothing really. I'm just going to lose my medical license.”

Allison picked up her head. “Wait, what?” Her face was scrunched up from the hangover. 

Stiles sighed and pulled his hands over his face. “You know. That girl.” 

“No.” Allison looked shocked. She began to rise from the sofa. 

“I'm being charged. Neglect and First degree murder.” 

“They can't do that. You couldn't do anything about it. You did everything you could.” 

“I'm suspended until the trial is over.”

 

“Mr. Stilinski, answer the question.” The judge ordered. “Continue.”

The lawyer for the family stepped forward again. He seemed to be grinning with his whole body from reaction he got from Stiles, while still keeping his face solemn.

“Mr. Stilinski.” He paused for effect. It irked Stiles. The whole thing irked Stiles. His dad was brought to the stand. Scott and Lydia were called upon. Hell, even jackass Jackson who works in a completely different division was used as a witness. They questioned the legitimacy of any of Stiles’s actions, tore him down from the ground up. Even if he still had his license after this trial, no one would hire him. 

Stiles couldn't not see the flaws in himself. He worked overtime way too often. He worked off the clock in the hospital. He’s had family as patients, which is not necessarily illegal, but usually a no-no with most hospitals. He rambles. He gets distracted. He doesn't listen to suggestions. 

Does that make him a bad person? No. It makes him human. He's no god, he's certainly not a surgeon. 

The lawyer stepped closer. “Is it true-”

Stiles knew what he was going to bring up. Shit, Stiles thought, I didn't need the whole world to know about this yet, or even ever. 

“That you left, the defendant's’ child, Holly Parker, alone because your mother came in from that same accident, thus leading to her death.” 

This was the murder he had on his hands. This was the death on his shoulders.

“No. I didn't leave Holly’s side until she was pronounced dead. I had heard that my mother was brought in, in critical condition, but trusted in my fellow nurses and doctors to do their job properly as was I.”

Stiles saw the pain in Holly’s eyes. He saw that same pain in his mother’s eye as she was wheeled by. She had half-hearted reached for him, low on strength, no voice to call to him. 

“Yes, and while you didn't step away, since you knew you mother was in critical condition, your thoughts were preoccupied of getting to her, instead of the patient on hand.” This lawyer was relentless. 

“Out of sight.” This is one the traits the Stiles had a love-hate relationship. He hated saying it but it was the truth. “Out of mind.” 

“That's harsh.” The lawyer said, letting a little of his grin poke out. 

“That's the truth of the matter. You focus on who is in front of you. It's their whole world you have in front of you, you have to take care of it.” 

“Do you drink Mr. Stilinski?” This was question asked in any case that Stiles had seen on every courtroom dramas. 

“Only in the past three months. Helps me to forget my dead mother's face.” He was blunt. He was so tired of having to speak gently. He drank normally on college then stopped once work picked up, not having time to be hungover.

“And what about Holly’s. Or does she not warrant you memory.” Stiles was pretty sure he was convicted already, and probably sentenced to at least five years in prison. Derek needs to teach him how fight now. He doesn't want to be some dudes prison bitch.

“I would never forget Holly.” Stiles looked through the lawyer, and directly to Mrs. Parker, Holly’s mom. “I never want to forget Holly.” 

There were a few more questions, before the next witness was called to the stand.

It was Ethan. Ethan was a surgeon, who disliked Stiles very much, and never listened to what he had to say. This was bad. 

“Please just call me Ethan,” he told the lawyer. 

“Okay. Ethan. How often do you work with Dr.Stilinski in a week?”

Ethan and Stiles were two cogs in the best team at the hospital, they worked all the fun days, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, 20 hour shifts each day. They worked together a lot.

“Every weekend. We work together pretty much every time we work.” Ethan stated tiredly. 

“Is it true that Mr. Stilinski's father came in last month for a gunshot wound to his chest.” Ethan nodded; the lawyer asked his next question. “And did Stiles leave his patient to take care of his father?” 

“When his father was transferred for the surgery, Stiles was the one to stop the bleeding. I don’t know if he had a patient or not. Possibly. It was a busy day. Stiles was good at getting patients taken care of.” 

Ethan seemed to be indifferent to Stiles which wasn't making the trial any worse. Stiles appreciated it. 

“So he did treat his father that day.”

“Yes.”

“The time that Mr. Stilinski’s father came was 11:27 p.m., and Mr.Stilinski had taken a patient at 11:20 p.m.. Seven minutes is not enough time to help a patient with-” The lawyer flipped open a file folder. “Multiple laceration, bruising, broken fingers, and a possible concussion.” 

“Certainly not.”

“So tell me why? Why did Mr. Stilinski leave his patient to take care of his father?” The lawyer was still trying to get that neglect charge to stick extra strong, with super glue and duct tape. 

“Even Stiles isn't that stupid. From what you explained was one of our most common patient, fights. Stiles was most likely called to work on his dad because he been seminars and classes on traumatic incidents. Like hell man, I've never seen him without a textbook. Stiles is the closest thing to a surgeon that's not actually one.”

It almost seemed like Ethan was praising him, Stiles thought to himself, but hidden under four layers of annoyance and tiredness. 

This wasn't going they way the lawyer wanted. “But he did leave his patient.”

“Yes, but the wounds you described could be taken care at home, and if probably read the rest of the file it will note the nurse that Stiles assigned to the patient when he left.” 

 

Stiles dropped to the stairs of the courthouse. Derek was standing in front of him. “I'm not letting this drag on any longer. I'll forfeit my license.” 

Allison ran up to them. “Stiles, you can't do that.” Scott agreed with her.

“I'm tired of this. I can't put anyone else through this.” Stiles buried his face in his hands. “I'm tired of everything I've done in my life being questioned.” 

“You do what feels right.” Derek said. 

Stiles looked up at Derek. The bustle and noise from the courthouse gently faded out. Derek, with his most sincere look, just watched Stiles. 

“You do what you need too.” He spoke again, bringing Stiles back to the courthouse. 

“Yeah.”

 

Epilogue

It was kind of funny to watch, Derek admitted. 

Stiles was working hard, glasses sliding down his noses as he leaned over the engine. His Jeep had broken down again. The shop had just closed for the night, Stiles still working, even when it had gotten too late. 

Stiles was unaware to Derek entering the garage, music blasting. Stiles pushed up his glasses with the back of his hand, smearing grease on his cheek and nose. 

“Hey.” Derek approached the jeep’s open hood. “Time to go, grease monkey.” Stiles didn't hear him, even standing next to him. 

Derek put a finger through the belt loop of Stiles’s jeans and tugged gently. Stiles whipped around, wrapping Derek’s arm around him. The song ended, the garage going to silent. 

“Hey.” Stiles greeted.

“Hey.” Derek returned. They breathed in the same space. “You're a mess.” Derek let his free arm meet the one behind Stiles and hold him. 

“No, I'm not.” Stiles denied. Derek wiped some of the grease off of Stiles’s face, showing his dirty finger to Stiles.

“Stiles. Mess.” 

“At least, I'm a hot mess.” 

“We’ll go with that.” Derek replied sweetly. Stiles wiped his face in Derek’s shirt in retaliation. It only made it worse and also got Derek’s shirt dirty. 

“We’re going to be late.” Derek said, pulling away. Stiles reached out and pulled Derek back against him. Face buried in Derek’s back. He said something but it was mumbled against Derek's back. “What are you even saying?” Derek chuckled, pulling away, and facing Stiles. 

“I said you're an idiot. Let's go. I'll change in the car.” Stiles said leading the way out, his face seemingly flushed as he rushed by Derek. 

They arrived at Scott and Allison’s only a little late. Stiles always had wipes in his duffle of spare clothes and was able to get most of the grease off his face before they went in. Stiles’s clothes littered the back seat of Derek’s Camaro. 

“Merry Christmas!” Allison greeted giving them both warm hugs before pulling Derek aside. Derek had done really well in his last fight, and Allison probably wanted to gush about it. 

Scott gave him a hug, pulling him towards the kitchen. His dad and Melissa had arrived pretty early, Chris was there as well. They were congregated in the kitchen, around a few glasses of wine and the platter of appetizers. Chris gave Stiles a hug after his father, then Melissa. 

“How the shop running?” Chris asked. 

Stiles made a wiggly hand motions. “It’s okay. I need another mechanic and more customers would be nice. But I’m keeping it afloat.” 

The conversation dissolved into nothingness, and everyone was soon called to dinner. 

Derek was waiting in the doorway for Stiles, wanting to sit next to him. 

“There’s not going to mistletoe taped to the door frame, is there?” Stiles said skeptically. Derek looked up. Stiles looked up. 

“Nope.” Derek confirmed. He looked back to Stiles who was now under the doorway with him. 

Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss softly on Stiles’s cheek. 

“I thought you said there wasn’t any mistletoe.” Stiles asked confused.

“There isn’t.” Derek said, looking away. 

“Then what was that for?”

“Just because there’s no mistletoe doesn’t I can’t kiss you, right?” 

“Damn right.” Stiles grabbed the front of Derek’s shirt, pulling him into a proper kiss. “But that’s where a kiss goes, idiot.”


End file.
